


Easy as O, A, B

by evadne



Series: Portions of Happiness [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/F, Femslash, Multi, Omega Verse, Polyamory, a-b-o ladies, alternate universe bigotry with some resemblances to sexism and transphobia, rape joke, republicans talking about abortion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:11:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evadne/pseuds/evadne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Molly Hooper has a very strange week, some very good sex, and a great deal of ice cream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy as O, A, B

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the a-b-o-ladies ficathon.

_‘I’m thirty five,’ Harold says, wiping hoes eyes. ‘You can say what you like, Lauren, but the fact is that my biological clock is ticking. All the alphas my age that I know are dating omegas in their twenties. I just don’t know what I’m going to do any more.’_

_Lauren raises her hand and places it gently on Harold’s shoulder. ‘What if…what if you didn’t date an alpha?’ she whispers._

 

_Harold’s tear-stained eyes meet hers. ‘What?’_

 

_Lauren sits back. ‘I know it’s not – I know I’m only a beta, and…I know it isn’t the same. And there are things I can’t give you, and your friends won’t know what to say. But I love you, Harold, I’ve always loved you.’_

 

  * scene from ‘Heart and Heat,’ 1998 romantic comedy



 

*

 

Wednesdays, Molly Hooper knows, are awful. It’s a fact. They always have been, as long as she can remember. If there’s a day when she gets a blinding headache that won’t stop, or spills boiling coffee all over herself, or gets stood up for a date, it’s always, without fail, a Wednesday. She doesn’t know why, but that’s simply the way it is.

 

And so this Wednesday, when she’s halfway out of the door on her way out of work, and bumps straight into Sherlock, she takes it pretty calmly. As calmly as she’s ever able to take anything around Sherlock, anyway. Lots of nervous apologising (which is naturally brushed off impatiently) but no hysterics or anything. Which is quite good, by her miserably low standards.

 

John comes in behind Sherlock, which is a relief. Things are usually much better when hae’s here, although this being a Wednesday Molly wouldn’t bet on that being true this time. Sherlock doesn’t normally come in on Wednesdays; it’s about the only good thing about them.

 

Sherlock rattles off a list of instructions. Molly tells herself every time, after hae leaves, that next time she definitely won’t do everything hae asks. She’s never kept that resolution yet. She hates herself a bit, to be honest.

 

And as she’s busying herself running about getting what Sherlock wants, she hears haim say to John, in reply to something John said a moment ago that Molly missed in her fluster: ‘No, I’ll leave that for now. That experiment’s going to take a good week of observation, and next week I have another experiment planned that’s likely to take all of my focus.’

 

‘What sort of experiment?’ Molly says. That is the polite thing to do, isn’t it, to ask? But then Sherlock wasn’t talking to her, hae was talking to John, and Molly was listening in. But they were talking right in front of her, so it wasn’t _really_ listening in, was it? But then people do tend to forget she’s there. Which isn’t her fault, or maybe it is, maybe there’s something she’s doing wrong, but –

 

‘An experiment concerning human sexuality,’ Sherlock says. God. Saying _sexuality_ in that voice of hais – does hae do these things to torture her? But no, Molly isn’t that important, hae isn’t thinking about her at all.

 

‘I – uh – I, that’s nice,’ Molly stammers, opening a drawer and looking into it as if its contents are the most fascinating thing in the world. Anything to avoid looking at Sherlock. Even if her blush is obvious regardless, and she obviously isn’t fooling anyone, least of all the bloody consulting detective.

 

‘I haven’t been off rut suppressants since I was twenty three,’ Sherlock continues, almost conversational. ‘A recent case drew my attention to the fact that my practical knowledge of ruts is limited and somewhat outdated. I’ve set aside next week to reacquaint myself with the experience.’

 

 _No_ , Molly thinks. _No, no, hae can’t._

 

‘Oh,’ she says, aiming for sprightly and unconcerned. ‘That sounds interesting!’ Oh God, too sprightly. They’re both staring at her now.

 

Sherlock looks at her for much too long. Then hae says, ‘Will you be in on Tuesday morning? I’ll be wanting to collect a few more bits and pieces.’

 

 _No, no, say no._ ‘Of course,’ Molly says. ‘I’m always in.’

 

‘So you are,’ Sherlock says. The smirk is probably just Molly’s imagination.

 

‘See you then!’ John says, embarrassingly over-friendly. Molly hates haes attempts to make up for Sherlock’s coldness towards her almost as much as the coldness itself, but she has neither the heart nor the guts to tell haim so.

 

‘Bye!’ Molly says. When they’re safely gone, she sinks down to the ground and sits with her back against the table.

 

Being around _any_ alpha in rut is always slightly – uncomfortable. Which is embarrassing, because all the other omegas she knows say they barely react to alphas unless they’re in heat themselves. Her sex drive is – all wrong, for an omega. And being around _Sherlock_ in rut is – is going to be worse than Molly can even imagine. What if she...does something? She’ll never live it down.

 

She gathers her things together and makes a second attempt to get out of the building – successful, this time. As she walks down the street she tries desperately to brainstorm what she might be able to do. The best thing, probably, is just not to show up. Have a sick day. But it’s just that something in her – the little bit of her that fucking _hates_ Sherlock Holmes – feels like that would be...giving in, somehow. Showing haim a sign of weakness. Which is absurd, because she knows very well that she’s never been anything but weak as far as Sherlock’s concerned.

 

Biting her lip, Molly pulls her phone out of her pocket and sends a text.

 

**You free for an emergency ice cream conference tonight? x**

 

A moment later her phone beeps, and she smiles. Sally is the most reliable person Molly knows when it comes to quick replies. When it comes to a lot of things, actually.

 

**So swamped in work now you cannot believe. But if its really an emergency...oh god fine. You are a bad influence. There had betterbe a serious quantity of icecream though.**

 

*

‘You are the best friend ever,’ Molly says, as Sally steps into her flat. ‘Seriously.’

 

‘I know,’ Sally says. ‘Getting behind on work to listen to you cry about Sherlock fucking Holmes. Jesus. I think I liked it better when you were dating a criminal lunatic.’

 

‘I’m an idiot,’ Molly admits. ‘And you are wonderful. I bought six tubs of ice cream, d’you think that was overkill?’

 

‘Definitely not,’ Sally says.

 

*

 

_In compiling this expanded 30 th anniversary edition of the book I made use of the many interesting letters and emails I have received in response to the original 1976 text....Another very popular query – sometimes phrased rather aggressively – was how the theory of natural selection could explain the continued existence of betas…Some argued that their survival pointed to the interference of a sentient being in the adaptation process… _

 

_Various theories have been put forward as to how genes linked to beta presentation have…survived natural selection, despite betas’ extremely poor fertility levels. (A type 1 beta has only a 4% chance of getting an omega pregnant; a type 2 beta has only a 2% chance of becoming pregnant after sex with an alpha.) Some of these theories are more outlandish than others. Some religious sects, for instance, believe that betas, since they do not experience heat, are...purer than alphas and omegas and that God has in consequence protected them from disappearance…_

 

_In fact the answer is quite simple: first of all, betas can reproduce at any time, whereas alphas and omegas can only reproduce during heat, which happens only about once every two months… Secondly… animals also have to be able to stay alive long enough to reproduce in the first place. We all know what alphas and omegas in heat/rut are like… we find that in the wild alpha and omega apes die on average seven years younger than beta apes because predators take advantage of their obliviousness to the world around them during heat/rut... These days alphas and omegas simply stay safely in their homes during heat/rut, but we do not even have to go back as far as the beginnings of humanity to see that things were once different… In the middle ages, for instance, while alphas and omegas did have more children than betas, the children of betas were much more likely to survive past infancy, less likely to starve while their parents were otherwise occupied._

 

  * from Richard Dawkins, ‘The Selfish Gene: 30th Anniversary Edition’, 2006



 

*

 

Molly has only known Sally Donovan for a few months, but she’s nevertheless probably Molly’s closest friend. Molly prefers to think that this is not just because Molly doesn’t have any friends. Admittedly there’s Meena and Caroline, who are lovely, but – somehow what with their happy relationships and normal non-dead-body-related jobs, Molly finds it increasingly hard to find things to talk about with them.

 

She met Sally at a crime scene when Sherlock rang up to ask – terribly sweetly, and after telling Molly that her voice sounded particularly nice over the telephone – if she’d come down to the scene and bring some preserved samples for Sherlock to compare to the victim. Molly had complied while a small voice in her head berated her helplessly. Sherlock, of course, had grabbed the samples and swept off without a word to her, and the nearest officer, watching, had raised her eyebrows and dragged Molly aside to demand what on earth she thought she was doing.

 

It hadn’t been a good day (in point of fact it had been a Wednesday), which was how Molly excused what happened then: she ranted miserably about Sherlock for a good ten minutes without stopping, on the verge of tears. Then she suddenly realised what she was doing and launched into frantic apologising. And then Sally cut her off, saying simply: ‘Hae’s a dick. You sound like you need a proper cry. Want to go to the pub later?’

 

Their friendship developed from there. At first it was based mostly in complaining about Sherlock, and Sally begging Molly to stop letting haim get hais way. But Sally has also proved to be the only person who pays any attention to Molly’s silly, irrational hang-ups about pronouns, and the only person who genuinely always seems happy to talk to her and pleased to see her, whose attitude to her betrays no trace at all of pity. Sally talks openly and unaffectedly about sex, and when Molly tentatively started to do the same Sally made no comments about Molly being unnatural, or not a real omega.

 

What Sally gets out of the relationship Molly really isn’t sure, but whatever it is she hopes she can keep it up. Losing this would be pretty awful.

 

*

 

‘Take a fucking sick day!’ Sally says, gesturing with her tub of ice cream.

 

Molly swallows a spoonful of her own. ‘It’s not that simple,’ she says, plaintively. ‘I wanna show haim that I’m – strong, you know?’

 

‘I do not know,’ Sally says. ‘The only thing I know is that you’re being ridiculous.’

 

‘Yeah,’ Molly says. ‘Yeah, but –‘

 

It’s at this point that the living room window smashes, and a figure dressed entirely in leather and wearing a racing helmet with the visor down tumbles through.

 

‘Sorry to interrupt,’ says a purring, cultured voice from somewhere inside the helmet. A leather-gloved hand reaches up and lifts the visor. ‘I’m Irene Adler. I think we met when I was dead?’

 

*

 

 _Voiceover:_ (Music plays) _Real Baby_ ™ _!_

 

 _Little omega: I love my baby_ (Hoe/sho cuddles the Real Baby™ to their chest.)

 

_Voiceover: Feed your baby! Change its nappies! Sing it to sleep!_

 

 _Little omega:_ (singing) _Sleep well baby, sleep tight!_

 

 _Real Baby_ ™ _: Night night mummy!_

 

_Voiceover: Really talks!_

 

Little omega puts a piece of Real Food™ into the Real Baby™’s mouth. The mouth moves and the food disappears.

 

 _Real Baby_ ™: _Yum yum!_

 

_Voiceover: Just like caring for a real baby!_

 

  * script for ‘Real Baby™’ advert, released 2012



 

 _A little alpha sits in hais/haer bedroom, on the floor, playing with an Anywhere!_ ™ _rocket ship, making it zoom in circles around haim/haer, looking delighted._

 

 _Voiceover: Go anywhere in the galaxy with an Anywhere!_ ™ _spacecraft._

 

 _The room fades into a space scene; the little alpha is now driving a real rocket that looks like a scaled up Anywhere!_ ™ _rocket._

 

_Voiceover: Will you be the captain, seeking out new shores? The soldier, defending the ship? The engineer, keeping it running? The universe is yours to explore!_

 

_Little alpha: Watch out, we’re in a meteorite zone!_

 

Hae/shae swings the steering wheel round, turning the ship hurriedly to avoid meteorites flying towards the dashboard.

 

 _Voiceover:_ (Music plays) _Go anywhere and everywhere with an Anywhere!_ ™

 

  * script for ‘Anywhere™’ advert, released 2012



 

*

 

Molly makes tea, because she isn’t quite sure what else to do. As the kettle boils, she searches frantically amongst her mugs. Why does she have so many mugs with cats on? It isn’t as if she’s some crazy cat lady, she’s only got the one cat, and it’s not her fault that everyone she knows seems to think her having a cat is a reason to give her cat mugs and tea towels for her birthday. The mugs without cats all seem to be dirty or have silly, jokey messages on that suddenly seem extremely lacking in class.

 

 _Someone’s just crashed through your living room window,_ Molly tells herself. _Mugs are not important. Get a grip._

                        
          

The kettle clicks. She pours it out and forces herself to wait and let the tea steep. If nothing else makes sense and alphas who sort of look like Sherlock and may or may not also have had sex with haim are suddenly appearing in her flat, then she’s at least going to get the tea right.

 

She puts the mugs on a tray and brings it back in, to find Irene Adler sprawled out on her sofa looking entirely relaxed, and Sally sitting awkwardly at the end of it looking anything but.

 

‘Uh,’ Molly says.

 

‘Sorry to burst in like this,’ Irene says. Haer voice is a bit like Sherlock’s too – not that it actually sounds the same in tone or anything, but in the sense that it’s a voice Molly can’t imagine ordering takeaway or complaining about the weather, or doing anything normal, without sounding completely out of place. Except that while Sherlock’s voice is at its most natural when hae’s insulting people or making rapid-fire (usually also insulting) deductions, Irene’s is a voice that sounds like it belongs most definitely in the bedroom. Molly swallows.

 

‘You did know I wasn’t dead, didn’t you?’ Irene says. ‘The news leaked a little faster than I would have liked.’

 

‘I – yes,’ Molly manages to get out. For a long time Molly had known Irene only as a strange alpha who had showed up in the morgue with haer face bashed in and been identified by Sherlock. Molly had obsessed a little more than she liked to admit over that identification and its nature and what that might mean. In all her miserable contemplation of the many reasons Sherlock wasn’t interested in her, the fact that hae might be gay hadn’t even occurred to her. When she’d been jealous, it was always of other omegas. And yet Sherlock had known this alpha’s body intimately, had been odd and subdued and unlike haimself in the wake of haer death.

 

So Molly obsessed, and wondered, but knew nothing. She heard something about Irene not really being dead (and she was trying, now, not to think too much about who the body Sherlock had identified had really been, and where it had come from). She heard something about Irene being in witness protection, and then something about her actually being dead, really dead this time, and then one day John and Sherlock came into the lab shouting at each other, and, forgetting Molly was there as usual, even though it was _her_ lab, they argued out the whole story. Irene was not, in fact, really dead this time; Sherlock had helped her fake it a second time, and now she was very much alive and causing trouble all over America.

 

‘I’m just back from America,’ Irene says, echoing Molly’s thoughts. ‘Speaking of which, you don’t have any chocolate, do you? Impossible to get decent chocolate over there. I’ve been craving a Dairy Milk for literally months.’

 

‘I – yes, I think –‘ Molly starts, but Sally cuts her off.

 

‘Not to be rude,’ she says, looking right at Irene. ‘But I think you owe my friend some kind of explanation. Perhaps you’d like to tell us why you’ve crashed through her window?’

 

*

 

Molly can’t quite follow the explanation, but apparently people are trying to kill Irene, and diving through a window was a necessary part of the escape plan. Why it had to be _Molly’s_ window specifically, Irene hasn’t yet said.

 

Molly needs to pull herself together, she knows. Because Irene is alpha, just about as _alpha_ an alpha as Molly’s ever met, and that’s including Sherlock. It’s overwhelming. And shae’s beautiful of course, in a hard-edged, polished diamond kind of way. But there’s obviously no way shae’d be interested in Molly.

 

And then shae leans in, right up close, smiles a smile Molly doesn’t understand, as if Irene knows something she doesn’t, and says: ‘I haven’t eaten all day. Let’s have dinner.’

 

*

 

_Look, the fact is, omegas are more hormonal, more emotional. You can argue whatever kinda liberal bullshit you like about it, but I think anyone can see it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying at all that it’s a bad thing. I love omegas, I look up to them a great deal, in many ways I think they’re better than us alphas! Kinder, better listeners – where would we be without them, right? Seriously, I’ve been married ten years, and my wife is the most wonderful, sensitive omega I know and I wouldn’t want hoem any other way. But the thing is, right, that omegas sometimes make decisions with their feelings, while alphas and betas tend to make decisions based on logic. Everyone knows that, really, don’t they? And if an alpha and an omega are gonna have a baby together – well, I don’t really see why it’s fair if the omega’s emotions just – overwhelm them – and they get to just make the call to kill that baby without even having to tell the baby’s father, you know?_

 

  * from a speech on abortion by a U.S. Republican senator, 2011



 

*

 

Molly says _yes_ to dinner, but when she tries to invite Sally, Irene says, ‘Just us,’ smiling that same smile, and Sally says that she doesn’t actually have any particular desire to be around Irene any longer, and that she has to get home anyway.

 

Irene takes Molly to a nearby restaurant which Molly could swear didn’t exist last time she was on this street. She didn’t think there was anything this posh around here. Christ, this probably has a Michelin star or something.

 

‘So,’ Irene says. ‘Your friend – Sally, her name was?’ Molly nods. Irene goes on: ‘She called you “her”.’

 

Molly nods again. Irene tilts haer head to one side. ‘But I _know_ you’re not a beta,’ shae says. Haer voice has got that purring quality to it again. Without quite knowing why, Molly blushes.

 

‘I don’t – I just don’t like omega pronouns,’ she says. ‘I don’t – think about myself with them, in my head. I mean, it’s completely irrational, obviously. And it’s – it’s not a big deal, or anything, I don’t expect you to remember –‘

 

‘I’ll remember,’ Irene said. ‘But you do identify as omega?’

 

‘Yes,’ Molly says, because she thinks it's more or less true and Irene doesn't need a ten minute lecture on Molly's life story and her stupid confused mind. ‘Yes. I just don’t like the – the trappings. The words and the clothes and – stuff.’

 

She doesn’t add that, though she might identify as omega, she’s been told more than once that she isn’t very good at being one. Not that anyone thinks she’d be any good at being an alpha, either, or a beta for that matter. Molly is just all wrong, awkward to the bone.

 

‘Have you finished eating?’ Irene says. ‘I have a flat waiting for me three tube stops away. I can’t go back to my house for at least a week, but the flat should be comfortable.’

 

‘Uh –‘ Molly says.

 

*

 _Comfortable_ turns out to be possibly the biggest understatement Molly’s ever heard. The flat is huge and immaculate and Molly cannot even begin to imagine how much it must be costing Irene in rent. She has absolutely no idea what she’s doing here.

 

A clue as to that comes a moment later, when Irene comes up behind her and scents her, running haer nose lightly across the back of Molly’s neck.

 

This is awfully intimate, considering they haven’t even kissed. But Molly suspects Irene isn’t one to waste any time. The question is, why is shae interested in _Molly?_

 

‘You,’ Irene says, almost as if in reply, ‘are fascinating.’

 

‘We just met,’ Molly says.

 

Molly feels Irene shake haer head behind her. ‘No. Not exactly. I was there, you know. The day you examined the body. Had to make sure everything went according to plan. I went into the lab early in the morning and hid. I was there all day. I saw you, after –‘

 

‘After Sherlock left,’ Molly realises, and her heart sinks.

 

‘And Mycroft,’ Irene agrees.

 

‘I cried,’ Molly says.

 

‘You did,’ Irene says. Haer breath is hot, making the hairs at the nape of Molly’s neck tremble slightly. ‘For four minutes. You didn’t try to stop yourself from crying, you just let it happen until you were done. Then you went to the cupboard in the corner and got out a bottle of eyedrops, which you proceeded to apply. You also got out a flannel, which you wet from the cold tap at the sink and then wiped your face with. After that, you sat quietly for another two minutes. Then you got a makeup kit out of your handbag and applied neutral makeup slowly and carefully. You didn’t look at all like you’d been crying by the time you’d finished all of that. And only then did you leave the room.’

 

‘Yes, well,’ Molly says, looking straight ahead, ‘I suppose that is interesting, that I cry so often at work that I have to keep a whole set of supplies around to deal with it. Not very professional, is it?’

 

Irene winds haer arms around Molly’s waist. Molly tries and fails not to tense. ‘I thought it was extremely professional,’ Irene says. ‘You didn’t show any sign of crying till they left. You covered it up without panic or fuss. You were perfectly in control. And control of oneself is a quality I always admire.’

 

Molly has never felt less in control. ‘That’s not a quality I have,’ she insists. ‘I – I’m so awkward, I’m all over the place, you don’t know –‘

 

‘We all have weaknesses,’ Irene says, haer voice lower now. ‘What matters is how we guard ourselves against them.’

 

‘I find it hard to imagine you have many weaknesses,’ Molly says. She isn’t quite sure whether she really meant to say it.

 

‘Why don’t you see how many you can find?’ Irene says, and without any more warning than that shae spins Molly round in haer arms so that they’re suddenly face to face, lips barely millimetres apart.

 

And, oh, Irene is beautiful, and alpha, and looks just a little too much like Sherlock, and Molly hasn’t had sex in forever. There is no way this can work; Irene’s a pro dom, for fuck’s sake, shae’s going to appreciate the way Molly gets during sex even less than alphas typically do. But this close, Molly can’t quite bring herself to say no.

 

‘OK,’ she says, and she closes the gap. But not to kiss. Irene’s lips look – compelling, yes, but also hard, and adorned with a lacquer of lipstick so shiny and flawless Molly feels she might bounce right off it. So Molly skips kissing, as Irene did, and instead presses her nose into the hollow of Irene’s cheek.

 

It hits her straight away. Irene is either very close to rut or, more likely, on suppressants. Suppressants drive Molly crazy, because to her alphas on them always smell like they could come into rut at any moment, like everything’s just bursting under the surface, barely contained. This, again, is not normal. Most omegas she’s heard talk about it say they pretty much don’t react at all to alphas on suppressants.

 

Molly’s mind is already going blurry around the edges. Any minute now her control’s going to slip, she’s going to forget to be a good omega, and things are going to fall apart. But for now she can enjoy the chemical rush, the feeling that her whole body’s heating up, liquefying, like it could flow anywhere.

 

‘Just – go for it,’ Irene says, haer fingers digging hard into Molly’s sides.

 

So Molly does.

 

The next thing she knows, Irene’s on the floor, Molly’s on top of haer, and Molly’s fingers are scrabbling at the zip of Irene’s leather jacket. ‘I’m sorry,’ Molly gasps, her breath suddenly very short. ‘I – I get like this – I can stop if –‘

 

‘ _No_ ,’ Irene says, and shae helps Molly with the zip. Haer breasts spring free from the jacket – there’s nothing underneath – God – and Molly’s lips are on them before she’s aware of moving. Irene’s scent is stronger here than it was higher up, and Molly’s mouth is uncoordinated trying to taste everywhere.

 

‘Knew it,’ Irene’s saying. ‘Knew you’d be like this.’

 

‘How –‘ Molly says, pulling Irene’s trousers down with some difficulty. She manages to get them half off before the skin tight fabric catches, and then Irene’s reaching up to a drawer in a nearby cabinet and pressing a knife into Molly’s hand.

 

Molly doesn’t think twice, or once, she scores the leather with the blade, opening up a line running all the way down, and then she shoves her fingers through the tiny gap and just pulls as hard as she can, and the trousers rip apart.

 

Molly drops the knife and rakes down Irene’s legs with her nails instead. Irene lies right back, naked now, pulls her hair out of its elaborate updo and lets it spill about her shoulders. ‘Go down on me,’ shae orders.

 

Molly has only ever been with one alpha who didn’t freak out when Molly got slightly rougher than expected of an omega. Hae admitted, shyly, that hae quite liked not having to be in control during sex, that it was kind of nice to have someone else take the lead. And Molly spent two months trying to convince herself that she’d finally found someone perfectly compatible with her.

 

She looks at Irene, lying very still, looking hard at Molly and just waiting, not needing to move because shae knows very well that Molly will –

 

 – and so she moves, bending her head while Irene says, ‘Faster,’ or ‘Move down,’ in the same cool, authoritative tones. But the commands are all positive _._ Shae never tells Molly to calm down, or exercise restraint. Molly, in fact, despite the fact that she’s doing exactly what she’s told, has never felt _less_ restrained.

 

 *

 

_An omega worries about the future until hoe/sho gets a husband._

_An alpha never worries about the future until hae/shae gets a wife._

 

_A successful alpha is one who makes more money than hais/haer wife can spend._

_A successful omega is one who can find such an alpha._

_A successful beta is one who can find the omega before hoe/sho finds the alpha._

 

_An omega knows all about hoes/hoer children. Hoe/sho knows their wants and fears, their hopes and dreams, their best friends, favourite foods and secret wishes._

_An alpha is vaguely aware of some short people living in the house._

 

_Alphas talk to omegas so they can have sex with them._

_Omegas have sex with alphas so they can talk to them._

_Betas talk to alphas and omegas and still wind up having sex with themselves._

 

  * from funnycositstrue.com



 

*

 

The following Tuesday, Molly takes an extra suppressant, puts on waterproof mascara, and heads out to work.

 

She hasn’t seen Irene since she left haer flat last Wednesday night – or, in fact by then it had been Thursday morning. This bothers her surprisingly little. She’s always had an irritating tendency to obsess over the littlest things when it comes to sex and dating, but these past few days her head’s felt oddly clear. No panicking over whether she’s likely to see Irene again, or get a repeat of what was undoubtedly the best sex of her life. Molly isn’t quite sure _why_ her brain’s suddenly decided to go easy on her, but she appreciates the change.

 

She’s feeling weirdly calm about today, too, and being stuck in the lab while Sherlock admires her hair in a horribly genuine-sounding way and stands too close in order to study her response and file away a mental note about how sad lovestruck thirtysomethings respond to being around the object of their desire when hae’s in rut.

 

She spends all morning bracing herself for Sherlock’s arrival, and cursing haim for putting it off. Why can hae not let her just get this _over_ with?

 

And then, at twelve, just as Molly’s about to leave to go and get lunch, the door opens, and John comes in, looking uncharacteristically out of sorts.

 

‘What’s up?’ Molly says. She’s a little proud of how normal she sounds. ‘Is Sherlock on his way?’

 

‘No,’ John says. ‘No, hae sent me to pick some things up, hae...couldn’t make it.’ Then, suddenly, hae grins. It’s as wide a grin as Molly has ever seen on John’s face; his smiles are normally smaller and always tinged with a lingering anxiety over what Sherlock might be about to do next.

 

‘Why?’ Molly asks. It’s none of her business, but she spent all week worrying about something that now apparently isn’t going to happen, so she feels that she sort of has the right to know.

 

Something awfully like a giggle emerges from John’s throat. ‘It’s all hitting haim a bit harder than hae expected,’ hae says, and then suddenly turns red, as if something in what hae’s said is embarrassing haim. ‘Hae’s spent the entire time so far lying down complaining and – er – anyway. Yes. I don’t think you’ll see haim for a few days.’

 

Molly giggles too. She can’t help it. ‘Thanks for letting me know,’ she says.

 

After John leaves, she calls Sally. ‘Massive anticlimax,’ she says. ‘Hae didn’t even show up. How are you?’

 

‘Exhausted,’ Sally says. ‘Working late last night. You aren’t around tonight, are you? It’s my turn for an ice cream conference, and I could really do with one.’

 

*

 

Molly shows up at Sally’s flat with a bottle of wine and, of course, ice cream. Once they’re settled, she asks, ‘What’s up? You didn’t have sex with Pete again, did you?’

 

Pete Anderson is a forensics officer who works with Sally, and whom she’s slept with twice. Molly’s never met him, and she can’t say that anything Sally’s said about him makes her want to.

 

‘No,’ Sally says. ‘God, no. He’s – oh, I don’t even know what’s going on. At the beginning he swore he and his husband had an open relationship, but I always felt like he was making huge efforts to keep me from meeting haer. And I thought maybe he just found it awkward, but...’

 

‘I didn’t realise he was married to an alpha,’ Molly says. ‘That’s unusual.’

 

She regrets it as soon as she's said it. It’s true, certainly – betas usually wind up with other betas, occasionally with omegas, and almost never with alphas; hardly surprising considering how rare it is for alphas to be crossexual. But Sally’s intensely sensitive on the subject of beta relationships.

 

‘It shouldn’t be,’ Sally snaps. ‘But yes, it is.’

 

‘Look, you know I’m with you on this one,’ Molly says. ‘I prefer sex out of heat, personally. But a lot of people swear it just isn’t the same –‘

 

‘By _people_ you mean alphas and omegas, right?’ Sally says.

 

‘I didn’t –‘ Molly starts.

 

‘I know,’ Sally says. ‘I just – get sick of things. Two thirds of the population assuming a relationship with me won’t work and the sex won’t be any good without ever bothering to check and see if they’re right. You know, I can hit on an alpha or an omega in the most obvious way you can imagine – I can ask one I’ve just met out for a drink – and it won’t even occur to them that I’m interested in anything other than friendship, because that doesn’t happen.’

 

‘It must be awful,’ Molly says, sympathetically.

 

Sally gives her a tired smile.

 

‘So, if you didn’t invite me over to tell me you’ve slept with Pete again – and I am very glad that’s not it, by the way – what was the emergency?’

 

‘Oh, yeah, I was just getting to that,’ Sally says. ‘So yes, I’ve been thinking for a while – since I first slept with him, really – that he might not have been totally honest about his husband not having a problem with it. And then last night, when I got home from the longest fucking shift I’ve done in quite some time, there was this alpha sitting on my doorstep. Type 2, and gorgeous. So I ask haer if shae’s OK, and shae asks if I know Peter Anderson.’

 

‘Oh God,’ Molly says.

 

‘Yep,’ Sally says. ‘Shae turned out to be his husband. Having a go at me, calling me – all sorts of stuff – and refused to believe me when I said I didn’t know they were monogamous. I got rid of haer eventually, but...yeah. And now...I just feel pretty terrible, really. If they split up or something –‘

 

‘Not to be harsh,’ Molly says, ‘but I doubt you’re the only one he’s cheated on haer with. And it isn’t your fault anyway. You didn’t know.’

 

‘I suspected, though, didn’t I?’ Sally says.

 

‘Oh, Sal,’ Molly says, and she hugs Sally tightly. ‘Jesus. Would it be unprofessional of you to slap him at work?’

 

‘Sadly I reckon the D.I. might think so,’ Sally says, squeezing Molly back.

 

‘You need ice cream,’ Molly says, sitting back. ‘And wine. I know we don’t normally drink during the week, but you sounded so fed up on the phone that I brought some in case I thought an exception was needed, and my ruling is that an exception _is_ needed, so.’

 

‘I really shouldn’t,’ Sally says. ‘It’s not like it’s really that big a deal.’

 

‘But you seem upset,’ Molly says. ‘And you’re seriously tense – I felt your heart racing when we were hugging. I know I don’t really work on anything with a pulse, but I _do_ have medical training and I’m declaring myself qualified to prescribe you two and a half glasses of wine.’

 

‘And a tub of ice cream,’ Sally adds.

 

‘Of course,’ Molly says. ‘It’s very dangerous to drink wine without also having ice cream. It, uh, unsettles the stomach. Can kill. You’d really better eat the entire tub, just to be safe.’

 

‘All right,’ says Sally. ‘If you insist. I think I’ve got a godawful romantic comedy somewhere or other that we can yell at while we drink.’

 

*

 

_There once was a beta who said_

_‘I can get any alpha in bed._

_And what is my trick?_

_It’s simple and quick:_

_You just hit ‘em over the head!’_

 

  * limerick, source unknown



 

*

 

The next evening, Irene calls. This is a little surprising, since Molly never gave haer her number, but Molly decides it’s best not to ask how shae got it. Shae asks to come over, and Molly frantically tidies her flat for the twenty minutes it takes Irene to get there.

 

When Irene arrives shae kisses Molly briefly – the first time they’ve kissed - and then sits down on the sofa and runs a hand through haer hair. It’s the first time Molly’s seen haer look anything other than perfectly composed – even when shae was moaning and flushed shae still looked somehow in control – but she isn’t sure to what extent Irene’s current discomposure is an act. She doesn’t really know haer very well, after all.

 

‘I want you,’ Irene says, abruptly. ‘I want you again. And for the foreseeable future. But I don’t do monogamy.’

 

Molly swallows, and sits down next to haer. This past week has gone by – very fast. Her head is spinning. ‘You want something – casual?’ she asks.

 

‘Do you really think anything I do is casual?’ Irene asks.

 

‘Then –‘ Molly says.

 

‘I travel. I have to, for my own safety,’ Irene says. ‘I’ll only be in the country from time to time. Even if exclusivity were something I were interested in, it wouldn’t be practical. But you’ll matter, when I do see you.’

 

‘I just –‘ Molly says. ‘I like relationships, I do – I know it’s sappy, but I want to be in one, eventually, a proper one - you know, where I see the person a couple of times a week, maybe move in with them one day. And monogamy hasn't always suited me best either, but some people like it, and the kind of thing you're suggesting - it's not that I don't want it, I really do, but it would close off options.‘

 

‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ Irene says. ‘The answer’s right in front of you. You’ll figure it out soon enough.’

 

Which means - what? Sherlock? But it occurs to Molly, now, that she's thought about Sherlock surprisingly little, this past week. Once she and Irene slept together, the resemblances between haer and Sherlock seemed to fade; Molly doesn't see them at all any more. She wonders if, when Irene leaves the country again, she’ll just go right back to obsessing, but she has a tentative hope that she won’t. Sherlock seems oddly distant. She doesn’t think it’s just Irene; she thinks it’s been growing for months, this detachment. It just took a while to realise itself, maybe.

  
  
Today at work she wasn’t obsessing over tiny things Sherlock had done, memories coming to the surface and bringing her little bursts of unwanted warmth. Instead she’d found herself growing warm at sudden memories of the week before, riding Irene’s fingers, and warm in a different way at the thought of sitting with her head on Sally’s shoulder laughing at bad films last night.

 

Then Molly realises she’s been quiet for ages, and Irene is looking at her expectantly. ‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ she says, ‘about the answer. But – yes. Yes, I do want to keep seeing you, and if that’s how you want it, then – yeah, I can do that.’

 

‘Good,’ Irene says. ‘How’s the last Friday of each month?’

 

‘Uh, good,’ Molly says.

 

‘I’ll call if I can’t make it,’ Irene says. ‘I can’t stay now, I’ve got an appointment with an Admiral. See you next month.’

 

Molly watches haer go, and feels slightly bereft. Which is unreasonable. Yes, she’d not particularly been looking forward to a night alone, and yes, she’d been more than a little pleased to get Irene’s call and think it might be spent more excitingly. But if isn’t happening, that shouldn’t be that big a deal. An early night would be good for her, anyway.

 

The phone rings. Molly picks up, and Sally says, ‘Hey. Just calling to see how you’re doing.’

 

Molly smiles broadly, even though there’s no one there to see her. It’s purely involuntary. But God, she’s happy all of a sudden.

 

They talk for a couple of hours, and then Sally says she needs to go to bed, and Molly does the same, finding the prospect of going to bed early and being sensible much less of a downer than she did earlier. She has good friends, she thinks. It’s not every day you find a person who can make you that happy just by calling.

 

*

 

_...4. When you feel yourself starting to go into heat, put on as many items of clothing as you can without feeling totally ridiculous and wear them all day. Just before hae or shae gets home, strip off and lay a trail of clothing all the way up to your bedroom – where, of course, you’ll be lying naked. Your husband/a-friend will pick up the heat scents from your clothing and be in a frenzy by the time hae/shae gets to you!_

 

_...15.  If your alpha isn’t going to be with you for the start of your heat, then take an item hae/shae uses at work – a pen, maybe – and suck on it for a couple of minutes. Then slip it back into their briefcase. When they open it at work they’ll get a noseful of you and be desperate by the time they get home!_

 

_...21. Slip a vibrating protrusion ring onto a type 1 alpha before going down on haem. Or, for a type 2, pushing a vibrator into the middle of haer nest of protrusions while you lick your way around the outside can have explosive results!_

 

  * extracts from a ‘Cosmopolitan’ article entitled ’25 sex tips to drive your alpha CRAZY!’



 

*

 

On Friday, a couple of things happen. First of all, Sherlock shows up at the lab, looking even more fed up than hae does as a general rule.

 

‘Did you have a good week?’ Molly asks, sweetly.

 

Sherlock looks at her suspiciously. ‘You look happy,’ hae says. Coming from Sherlock, it sounds downright accusing.

 

‘You know,’ Molly says, ‘I sort of am.’

 

The second thing that happens is that Sally demands to know everything that happened with Irene, and Molly agrees to come over for dinner.

 

And the third thing that happens is that, when Molly relates Irene’s weird comment about the answer being right in front of her, Sally mutters ‘What a fucking tosser,’ and then kisses Molly hard on the mouth.

 

Molly sits very still for around a second and a half, then says, ‘Er.’

 

‘Shae meant me,’ Sally said. ‘At least, I’m pretty sure shae did. Shae’s far too much like Sherlock, I assume shae also knows way too fucking much about everything.’

 

‘Meant you – what?’ Molly says, trying to keep up.

 

‘I fancy you,’ Sally says. ‘Always have. It never seemed the right time to tell you, and I like us hanging out, being friends, so. But then – it’s not as if you’d ever consider it yourself, without someone else suggesting it – the idea of, of us, I mean. So I just thought maybe I had better say something, after all. I wouldn't have wanted Irene telling you first.'

 

‘I –‘ Molly says, and then stops. This is important. She needs Sally, she cannot go back to how things were before. She has to get this right. ‘I like you more than anyone else I know,’ Molly says. ‘But you know I’m straight. I’ve never been – crossexual at all really.’

 

‘I know,’ Sally says. ‘And I wouldn’t have said anything, but – you get so worked up about not being a normal omega. You don’t like clothing that shows off your hips, you don’t like o pronouns, and you think your sex drive’s too high and that you aren't passive enough. And all of that bothers you, a lot. Are you sure you haven’t just decided that you have to be straight because at least then you’d have one bit of normality down?’

 

‘I never thought about it,’ Molly says, truthfully. ‘I was always attracted to alphas – uh, an inconvenient amount, sometimes.’ Sally smiles. ‘So I never really had to worry about – I just, I guess I never really let my mind go there.’

 

‘Yeah,’ Sally says. ‘That’s what I thought.’

 

'I prefer sex out of heat,’ Molly says slowly. ‘And I’ve never been that fussed about whether an alpha’s in rut or not, though obviously they always mostly wanted to do it when they were. So I suppose -  I suppose maybe it wouldn't matter, really.'

 

‘OK,’ Sally says. She’s looking shyer than Molly’s ever seen her. ‘So - ?’

 

‘The sex with Irene was amazing,’ Molly tells her, bluntly. ‘I don’t want that to stop.’

 

‘It wouldn’t have to,’ Sally says. ‘That’s not something that’s ever been a problem for me. I wouldn’t be compromising. And – Molly, you realise that last week we met up three nights and the week before that it was four? And that we all but fucking cuddle when we watch TV together? We’re practically dating already. God, I asked you out the first time we met, you just didn’t notice. I thought we _were_ dating for a week before the penny dropped. But the thing is, nothing about what we were doing actually changed when I realised we weren’t. We don’t even have to have sex if you don’t want to –‘

 

‘Well,’ Molly says, ‘it’d be worth a try, wouldn’t it?’

 

Her phone beeps. She picks it up.

 

**Figured it out yet? P.S. when you do we should talk threesomes. I x**

 

‘This has been a weird week,’ Molly says, slightly dazed.

 

‘You mean that?’ Sally says.

 

‘Well, yeah,’ Molly says. ‘An alpha crashed through my window and then had sex with me, my best friend asked me out, and I spent most of it too distracted by all of that weirdness to even really remember that Sherlock existed. It wasn’t exactly typical.’

 

‘Not _that_ ,’ Sally says. ‘What you said before. You want to try – sleeping with me?’

 

Molly looks at Sally, and thinks of hugs, and falling asleep on the sofa, body against body. She feels months of remembered warmth rise up in her head.

 

‘I redact the try,’ Molly says. ‘I want to sleep with you. I hadn’t noticed – really, half the time I don’t think I have the faintest idea what I want or what’s good for me. But I like having you near me, and – oh God, we shouldn’t have watched that stupid rom-com the other day, I can’t even talk like a normal person, but –‘

 

Sally’s on her then, kissing her sharper than before, and it’s kind of awkward, because Molly never imagined doing this, and she’s never kissed anybody without a haze of chemicals rising in her in response to their scent, but it’s also warmer than anything she’s ever experienced, and just – lovely. Just really lovely.

 

‘If you yell Sherlock’s name at any point,’ Sally says, drawing back, ‘I will kill you.’

 

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Molly says. ‘You start with the same letter, I’m sure I’ll be able to catch it in time.’

 

Sally swats her. Molly giggles. And that’s new, too: she can’t remember ever laughing during sex or the lead-up to it with an alpha. In the hormonal mist normal emotions become dim and faded, hard to access, and everything is just pure sex. Which is hot, granted. But this – she likes this.

 

‘Come on,’ Sally says. ‘My room’s this way.’

 

*

 

Afterwards, they have ice cream in bed. Sally grabs Molly’s phone to reply to Irene’s text, despite Molly’s protests ( **we’ll see about that. You should wear the leather again next time you come round).** Molly lets Sally’s hair cover her face, breathes in the unfamiliar scent – not a scent that says _alpha_ or indicates a category or inspires a hormonal reaction, but a more precise and specific scent. One, Molly realises, that might just mean _Sally._

 

‘Sleep here,’ Sally says. So Molly lets her eyes close, and breathes deep, and feels the warmth coming from everywhere soak deep down to her bones.


End file.
